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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25273294">Miracle of a Single Flower</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukikun13/pseuds/yukikun13'>yukikun13</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Highway Blossoms (Visual Novel)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Fluff, Meeting the Parents, Post-Game, and every sibling known to man</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:20:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>19,950</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25273294</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukikun13/pseuds/yukikun13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After Coachella, Amber and Marina begin to make their way back East. After two months away from home, Marina is feeling a little homesick.<br/>If Amber didn't love her so much, she wouldn't have to deal with this.<br/>Too bad she does love her that much.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Amber Golley/Marina Hale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. These Red Lights Are Trying to Tell Me Something</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's not the first place that Amber wanted to go once they started heading East. If she knows anything, though, it's that she's terrible at not giving in to whatever Marina wants to do.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I’d take the long stretches of dusty, desert highway over the constant start-stop of the suburban traffic that we’ve been sitting in for the past hour. </p><p>It would be more bearable if the temperature was cooler, but with the normal Southwest heat paired with the cars packed together like sardines, all I can see through the windshield are the flurry of heatwaves that pour from the engines of the cars around us. Even the air conditioner doesn’t seem to put a dent in the heat that’s been steadily creeping up my collar for the past few hours. </p><p>“Ugh…”</p><p>My groans have been consistent throughout that time, too. As I stare up at yet <em>another </em>red light, my fingers tap impatiently on the steering wheel. They don’t match the beat of the music that we’ve been listening to.</p><p>“Are you okay?”</p><p>Again, she asks me that question. I turn my head and look to my right to see Marina’s eyes staring at me, the same deep blue hue and worried expression that I’ve gotten so used to seeing. </p><p>She wears it too much.</p><p>It’s my fault she does.</p><p>“Frustrated,” I grumble. I look out the windshield again at the cars that are still stopped by the traffic light. The ones that are crossing the intersection are lucky. “I feel like we spent less time in traffic during our gold rush than right now.”</p><p>Marina’s light giggle forces a small smile to my face. “It’s only been a little bit,” she says, sounding chipper as usual, “Maybe you’re just hungry?”</p><p> ‘<em>No,’ </em>  I think, resisting the urge to roll my eyes, ‘<em>The only one who could be hungry an hour after lunch is you.’ </em></p><p>“I’m fine,” I continue to grumble, although I force my tone to be a little lighter. “Be better when we’re there.”</p><p>But really, I’m not sure that I <em>will </em>be better when we’re there. We’ve been driving through the states for a few weeks now, following whatever whim either of us has. Now that we aren’t guided by the flimsy guide and in a feverish search for hidden treasure, and Coachella behind us, we’re guided by the road and the road <em>only</em>. I offered up to head East again after we completed my secret plan of hitting up Zion one more time to try to see if it was all that Gramps said it would be, but Marina had the bright idea to head home before we shot to the other side of the continent.</p><p>And by home, she meant New Mexico.</p><p>And to her family.</p><p>In the motorhome that we lived in.</p><p>As a couple.</p><p>The last time I had met any parents was when I was back in high school. It was almost two years ago now. I’ve only gotten more charming since then, and now with Marina in tow, I’m not sure exactly what I should be expecting. </p><p>“Do you want me to drive?” she asks, offering it up for at least the third time since we started this morning.</p><p>“No, I’m okay,” I answer and tighten my grip on the wheel, forcing my hands to stop drumming on it. The light turns green and we slowly start to churn forward. Marina looks happily out the window. Whenever I glance over I can see her smiling reflection. “You’re excited, huh?”</p><p>She looks back at me and shoots me her classic, wide, dimpled smile. “Yup!” she chirps, her dimples somehow getting larger. “Aren’t you?”</p><p>I grumble a groan in my throat. “Not really,” I say, honestly. I can feel the way that she deflates next to me. “Meeting the parents isn’t exactly high on my list of enjoyment.”</p><p>“Aww, but they’ll love you,” Marina says. She reaches out her hand and slides it on my thigh before she gives it a small squeeze. It tickles a little, which makes me smile, and she continues, “Besides, it’s not going to be like some big show. You’ll come in, we’ll have dinner, you’ll get grilled by my siblings, and then we’ll leave!”</p><p>Somehow, although she meant to be teasing and light about it, her explanation of the plans doesn’t give me the same light-hearted feeling she wants it to. </p><p>I grunt a small acknowledgment. She gives me another squeeze on the thigh.</p><p>“It’ll be fine,” she says again, this time a little more sober than normal. Her voice has a calming lilt to it. Her hand moves up and off of my thigh before brushing gently into my hair and settling at the back of my head. “You worry too much.”</p><p>“One of us needs to,” I say. It snaps out a little harder than I meant to. Like usual. I quickly retract my verbiage. “<em> You </em>  may not be worried about your entire family liking me, but  <em> I’m </em> worried about it.”</p><p>She continues to scratch her fingers gently against the base of my skull. It feels good. Comforting. It’s a nice feeling that I’m slowly starting to get used to. “It’s going to be <em>fine</em>,” Marina continues to try to soothe me. The soft sifting of her fingertips into my head feels good, therapeutic, almost enough that I’d love another red light just so I could lean into it more than I already am. </p><p>“If you say so…” I say, giving in to her coaxing. </p><p>She giggles and pulls on the seatbelt so she can lean over and kiss my cheek. The feeling is soft and quick, entirely too quick for my liking, but it’s the best I can get while we’re driving. </p><p>“If it ends up being too weird, we can leave early…”</p><p>Although this was her idea, there have been a few times where she’s offered this up. The quick out. It seems almost like she’s wanting me to give her an excuse not to go home. As I slow at another red light, I look over at her. “Do you even <em> want </em> to go home?” I ask. She looks back at me with a slightly surprised expression. Her fingers stop scratching in my hair. “I mean, you weren’t ever excited about it before, so I’m not sure why you are now.”</p><p>Marina’s surprised expression melts into one that is more pensive and uncomfortable. “Well…” she starts, “Before it was that I didn’t want to go home and be stuck there, y’know…?” She looks at me while questioning if what she’s saying makes sense. “I don’t mind visiting because I know I won’t have to stay…”</p><p>I blink a few times while I watch her choose her words carefully. She loves her family. That’s been clear since the first day I met her. But there is also a strange feeling that I get whenever she brings up <em>staying there</em>. Maybe it’s the fact that there are so many people in one house. Maybe it’s that she never felt the freedom she did until she started traveling with me. Either way, I’m not sure that this is a good idea, primarily because of how early in our relationship we are, but also because I fear for Marina’s sanity.</p><p>I take advantage of the light and reach my right hand across the space and squeeze her thigh like she had mine. “I wouldn’t take you there if you were going to stay,” I tell her, meaning to be reassuring. It works because her face falters a little before curving into her classic smile. She rubs her thumb across the back of my head before she leans over and kisses me, this time on the lips. I take advantage of it, savoring the sweet seconds where I can kiss her and not have any spectators. I know that, once we get there, it won’t be the same.</p><p>Guess the red lights are good for <em>something</em>. </p><hr/><p>We spend the next half hour fighting with passenger cars while we weave through small side streets once we’re off the main road. Marina bounces in her seat while guiding me, often forgetting for a few seconds that she’s supposed to be telling me where to go before she has to lead me down a different route than where she wanted to originally follow. By the time we’re pulling into a large cul-de-sac, I’m not sure if I’m more nervous or irritated, although I’m trying not to show either. </p><p>I pull onto the last street and Marina points almost dead-ahead. “That one! The white one!”</p><p>I couldn’t miss it if I tried. Marina said before that her house was big, or that everyone <em>said </em>her house was big, but I wasn’t really expecting <em>this</em>. It’s not impressive in architecture or design as much as it is in <em>size</em>. It easily dwarfs the neighboring houses. Even compared to the motorhome, this thing is <em>huge</em>.</p><p>The wheels bring us to a crawl in front of the house as I stare up the front of it. “Jeez, Mare, you sure know how to bury the lead…” </p><p>She looks at me with her trademark confused head-tilt. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“It… Just <em>look </em>at it. It’s freaking <em>huge </em>.”</p><p>Marina puffs out her cheeks and gives me a sullen look. “That’s what <em> everyone </em> says…”</p><p>“Yeah, well, they might be onto something…” I tell her. I take a few minutes to back the motorhome up and give it a new perch in their driveway, surprisingly long enough to <em>house </em>it, before I cut the power to the engine and continue to look forward. “We’re here,” I say, although I can’t tell if I’m dreading it more than I was before or not. I look at Marina, who’s staring at me expectantly. “You ready?”</p><p>She beams. “Yup!” she answers. She’s already got her hand on the seatbelt, undoing it, before I reach out and put my hand on hers. She looks up at me and we share a small, serious, thoughtful look. </p><p>Every time she looks at me with those eyes, I can feel myself turning into putty. It’s no wonder all she had to do was suggest going back home to visit before I caved. </p><p>Wordlessly, I lean forward, ignoring the pull of my own seatbelt on my shoulder, and slowly kiss her on the mouth. I feel her start to relax and melt into it. She takes her time with these kisses when I surprise her with them, savoring them, our slow rhythm a perfected art that we’ve spent the past month learning how to master. These are different than the rushed, hurried kisses that normally lead to us stumbling to the back of the motorhome, but I can’t tell which ones are my favorite.</p><p>They’re all her, so they’re all my favorite.</p><p>As I pull our lips apart, I hear the soft sigh that she lets out beneath her breath. “What was that for…?” she asks. She sounds like she would be thrilled to continue, and honestly, I’m about three seconds away from indulging her.</p><p>“Just… Don’t know when I’m gonna be able to do that again.” She looks up at me, her facial expression melting but in a sad way, in the way I <em>don’t </em>like it to go. “Wanted to make it count.”</p><p>“Silly,” she says. She shakes her head, hair waving a little with the movement, and then leans forward. She places her hand on my cheek now, and whispers against my lips quietly, “You’ll always be able to do this.” She closes the minute distance between us again and I relax a little into her kiss. She says that, but the impressions that I got from her talking about her family made me more nervous than optimistic. Unlike the past two months, we’re going to be with people, a<em> lot </em>of people, which means that we have to adhere to some form of societal rule. It’s not just the Marina and Amber Show. It’s more like Nine Kids and Counting: Girlfriend Edition.</p><p>Ugh.</p><p>She pulls away this time and I try to shoot her the best smile that I can. “All right, let’s go,” I try to coax her. I slap my hand on her thigh a few times, just hard enough to make a sound, and then reach over for my own buckle and undo it. She bounces out of her seat and out the door, slamming it behind her with her enthusiasm. I wince.</p><p>Here we go…</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Can Awkwardness Kill Someone? Because It Might Today</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Amber steps into the Hale household and is immediately tackled.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She waits for me as I get out of the motorhome and lock it. Even in a cul-de-sac where everything looks manicured and perfect, I don’t trust anyone with my stuff. Gramps always taught me that. </p><p>“Ready?” she asks, her sing-song voice light in my ear. </p><p>I nod, not ready to commit vocally. She smiles at me and tugs on my hand, leading the way as she’s been doing more and more lately. I continue to look at the front of the house. Around a concrete front porch there is a large barrier of flowers that almost hide the front door’s existence from the length of the driveway. The bushes are bursting with green, although not quite as much as we’ve seen before. The porch is entirely shaded, though, with a swing and a small statue of a dog holding a ‘Welcome’ sign in its mouth. </p><p>Marina leads us up to the front door and opens it without a knock, as if she had never left home and bringing home her girlfriend was just a normal occurrence. </p><p>“Mom? Dad? We’re here!” she calls out. I can hear a few screeches before I hear a parade of footsteps slapping against tile. I close the door behind me just in time for a gaggle of people to come tearing from around the corner.</p><p>“Marina’s back!”</p><p>“Marina!”</p><p> </p><p>The first wave that came around the corner are actually kids, maybe pre-teens at best. The two girls are identical, with long blonde hair tied back behind their head unlike Marina’s side-tail. They tackle Marina and nearly put her onto the floor, the only thing keeping them from falling is the fact that I’m barely a few inches behind her. I scramble to find something to hold onto, but their trajectory is ruined, and when I look down, I have four blue eyes staring up at me. They retreat away from Marina and more bodies come around the corner to meet them.</p><p>Two younger boys, one that looks about the same age as the girls, stare at me with a questioning look. The older of the two of them looks a little harder at me, as if ready to fight. They both also have blue eyes, but the older one’s hair is darker, more of a tawny brown than blonde like the rest. </p><p>To round off the group, three of Marina’s four older siblings stand behind the younger ones. They all look at me with similar serious expressions, although the one girl seems to glare at me a little. The boys just take me in with silent indifference, aside from one who gives me a small smile.</p><p>“Who’s that?!” One of the younger girls finally chirps, breaking the silence around us. </p><p>“That’s Amber!” Marina says, just as chipper.</p><p>“Hi Amber!” the two girls say in unison, sounding just like their older sister.</p><p>“Uh… Hi.” </p><p>Smooth. </p><p>“Stop crowding in the hallway,” a sing-song voice says, and immediately the older siblings part, turning to their side while the younger kids follow suit. They part and reveal an older woman and I stare at her for a few seconds in awe. She looks sort of how I would expect Marina to look in another twenty or thirty years. Her hair is a light strawberry blonde, not quite as red as Marina’s, but the roundness of her face is almost a dead-ringer. She wipes her hands on the towel that is hung off of the strings of her apron before she looks up at us. She has crystalline blue eyes, almost aquamarine in color, and she smiles with them as well as her mouth as she extends her arms to her daughter. “Welcome home, Marina,” she says, and Marina doesn’t hesitate before jumping into her arms. </p><p>“I missed you all so much!” she says, pulling away after a few seconds and looking around at all of them, “I can’t wait to tell you everything! And show you! I have so many pictures your eyes are going to fall out of your <em>head</em>!”</p><p>“Aren’t you forgetting someone?” </p><p>The question forces Marina to pause and she looks back at me. There’s a slightly embarrassed look to her face. </p><p>She definitely forgot about me for a second.</p><p>The feeling I get in my gut hurts as much as it’s irritating.</p><p>Marina bounces back and grabs my hand to pull me out of the doorway. I nearly stumble on nothing. “Everyone, this is Amber,” she explains again, holding me close to her side. “This is my mom, Penny, and this is Joshua, Henry, Delilah, Stu, Mason, Madeline, and Mallory.” The names are a blur by the time I get to the last three and the alliteration is just over what I can stand. </p><p>“Nice to meet you all,” I say. I run through all of their names again while I can imitate the sound in my head. I get lost in the M’s. </p><p>Penny comes up to me and reaches out her hands. She takes my free one and squeezes it between her palms. “Welcome to our home,” she says. The warmth isn’t shocking, not compared to Marina, but the calm aura she exudes is definitely out of my normal. “It’s a little small, but I hope you’ll make yourself right at home.” She continues to smile before releasing my hand. “Are you two hungry?”</p><p>“Starving!” Marina groans as if she hadn’t eaten just before this last leg of our trip. </p><p>“I’m good,” I say, “Thank you though.” </p><p>“Well, don’t be shy if you get hungry or anything. Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge and get comfy.” Penny’s orders are more like suggestions and I can feel the smile pricking at my lips. “Lilah, honey, can you help me with the rest of dinner?”</p><p>“Sure.” The older girl’s glaring eyes break off of me and I feel the relief as the cold tension melts. She quickly follows her mother around the corner and into the other room. </p><p>“Marina, come look at what I did!” one of the younger girls chirps, whether it’s Madeline or Mallory I have no idea. </p><p>“In a minute,” Marina says, smiling, “I’m going to show Amber around. Why don’t you get whatever it is together and you can show me after.” </p><p>“‘Kay!”</p><p>Now that I’ve heard them, it’s almost like I can picture a Marina at that age saying the same thing… </p><p>The kids retreat, as do the older ones, and Marina takes my hand and jerks her head towards the staircase that is just to the right of the front door. “Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour!” </p><p>She leads me up the staircase and I can feel how solidly they’re built. They barely creak as we move up the narrow steps and towards the second floor, and are made of the same dark wood that the front door is. There are pictures covering the walls on both sides of the staircase. I look between both walls as we make our way up. There are the standard baby pictures of each kid, but there are also one for graduations, proms… There’s one of Marina smiling in her graduation cap and gown that makes me smile too. </p><p>“You weren’t kidding about your family…” I say, now that we’re out of earshot.</p><p>Marina hums and then nods. “Why would I joke about that?” she asks me. I don’t have an answer for her.</p><p>“It just seemed like a lot…”</p><p>“Well… It kind of is,” she admits, sounding a little sheepish about how easily she agrees with me. </p><p>“Your parents really like the M-names, huh?” I ask.</p><p>That makes her giggle a little. She squeezes my hand. “Well, when they were planning on having their last kid, they’d decided on either Mason or Madeline for their name before they were born, but then they found out they were having three and then they needed another name, so thought why not stick with the M’s?”</p><p>I blink and I have to purposefully keep my mouth shut so my jaw doesn’t drop. “Three?”</p><p>“Yup,” Marina says. Her voice sounds tired. “Went from six to nine <em> really </em> quick.” As we near the end of the hall, Marina turns to look at me again. “I think that was finally the last straw. I’m glad, too, because I just remember it was a <em> lot </em>of crying.”</p><p>“How much of an age difference is there between you?” </p><p>Marina continues to linger at the end of the hall, a closed door on either side of her. “Joshua’s the oldest. He’s twenty-six. Delilah’s twenty-three. Henry’s twenty-two. You haven’t met Paxton because he’s at college, but he’s twenty.” She gestures to the door on the right. “That’s their room. Stu and Mason are in this one—“ she gestures to her left, “—but that’s <em>much </em>smaller than the others. It’s the only way that all of them would fit.” She takes a step towards me and I quickly glance over my shoulder as I back up again, retreating down the hall we just came down. “Bathroom’s right here. There’s another downstairs, but this one’s the only one with a shower.” She opens the door and I take a quick peek in. Clean, surprisingly, and well organized considering how many people use it. </p><p>“Then Stu’s after me, he’s fourteen, and then Mason, Mallory, and Madeline are ten.” She finishes up the story as she continues to walk towards me. She smiles as she lingers with her hand on the last doorknob, barely around the corner from the top of the stairs. “And this…” she says with a smirk, “Is my room.”</p><p>She opens the door and my eyes widen. Despite the fact that there are four of them that share this room, it is <em>surprisingly </em>neat, just like the bathroom. There are two sets of gigantic bunk beds, each mattress almost the same size as the one that’s in the motorhome, which are on opposite sides of the room. The beds cut the room into quarters, which are small but have a desk and various furnishings in each section. Above each section on the walls are different decorations and wood letters spelling out each of their names. Marina’s is towards the front, a collection of squiggly letters with pastel blues and sunflowers painted on them. </p><p>I take a few steps into her room and look around. “It’s… <em> Big </em>…” I manage to say. The comment sounds as stupid as I feel. </p><p>“You’ve said that already,” Marina sighs. I can hear how playful her voice is, though. She takes a few steps into her room, following me, and lingers by her space. I look around her section and then look at her. She’s watching me expectantly. “What do you think?”</p><p>I smile. “It’s nice.” The comment doesn’t seem like enough, still. “I mean… It seems like you never get any time to yourself, but it’s a lot less cramped than I thought it would be…”</p><p>Marina nodded. “Yeah… Not a lot of alone time when we’re in the house…” She comes closer to me and smiles, “Good thing we have the motorhome.”</p><p>“Uh…” I start, “You know that we’re going to have to be on our <em> best </em> behavior even out there, right?”</p><p>“What?!” The surprise in her voice is… Shocking. “But why?!”</p><p>“Mare, come on,” I say, a little incredulously, “You really thought that we were going to be able to do <em>anything </em>while we were here? We’re camping out in your <em>driveway</em>. It’s not like we’re at a campsite or something.”</p><p>Marina’s lip pouts out and she takes a tiny step back. “Well, that sucks…”</p><p>‘<em>Good going, genius.’ </em>I hate making her upset, regardless of whether or not I’m right. She clearly hadn’t thought that there would be anything impeding our normal way of life when we came here. </p><p>I sigh and take a step forward. I lift my hand and tilt her chin up with the side of my index finger before I press a soft kiss to her lips. “It’s not very long,” I remind her, “And we’ll be out on the road and we can make up for any lost time then.”</p><p>That seems to pick up her spirits. “Promise?”</p><p>“Promise.” It’s an easy one to make, even easier since it brings life back to her smile. </p><p>A giggle from the doorway makes me freeze. I look in that direction and see one of the younger girls, Mallory or Madeline I have no idea, staring at us. I send a glare in her direction once I regain my wits but Marina is already stepping in front of her. “I thought you were going to get whatever it was you wanted to show me?” Marina asks. </p><p>“I did! I needed one other thing!” her sister says before running into the room past her and towards the far corner of the room. A quick look up to the name on the wall confirms that this one is Mallory. As her sister collects whatever she needed from her side of the room, she runs over to Marina and quickly grabs her hand, starting to pull her out. Marina shoots me a look before leaving me standing in the room. “Were you <em> kissing </em>?” I can hear Mallory ask as they start down the stairs.</p><p>“You didn’t see us <em>kissing</em>,” Marina retorts before I can grimace.</p><p>“It <em> looked </em> like you were kissing.”</p><p>As soon as I hear their steps off of the stairs I let off a large sigh. This is going to be harder than I thought.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. I Take It Back; Embarrassment Is What Does Me In</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The grilling Marina promised begins.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If I thought that eight kids and their parents were a lot of bodies in the doorway, I was in for it when I finally saw them at the dinner table.</p><p>The dinner table is long, maybe even as long as the mid-section of the motor home, and it’s covered with plates, napkins, cutlery, and different plates of food. It looks like entirely too much food, but each of the Hale children practically salivate the second that it starts to hit the table, Marina included.</p><p>I sit next to her and she shoots me a smile while we start passing around plates. </p><p>It’s awkward.</p><p>While conversations go on around me, I feel completely lost and a little out of place.</p><p>“Where’s dad?” Marina asks as she takes a roll from the basket and then hands it to me.</p><p>“Working late, but he should be home soon,” Penny says. The conversations continue while plates are passed around, but the sounds of chewing start to dampen how much noise pollution we have.</p><p>Dinner is <em>good</em>. Maybe not the buffets in Vegas good, but <em>really </em>good. Even when Gramps was alive, we went out to eat more often than not only because he was a terrible cook and I, honestly, am not much better. Having a home-cooked meal is a refreshing experience after being on the road for so long and having to settle for either road food, microwave meals, or whatever diner joint we come across.</p><p>“So Amber—“</p><p>The conversation gets pulled to me and I look up. I see nine sets of eyes looking expectantly at me and can hear how all the silverware stops scraping at everyone’s plates, mine included. Penny has a soft expression on her face, though, which is more than I can say for everyone else. The looks I’ve gotten since I’ve been here have been indifferent to cold. “—Marina told me that you’ve been traveling for a while?”</p><p>“Uh…” I shoot Marina a look but look back to her mom before I can see whatever reaction she gave me. “Yeah, I guess… Started out a few days before I met Marina.”</p><p>“And where’s home for you?”</p><p>“Colorado,” I answer, but then sheepishly look down at my plate, “Or at least, that’s where I was for middle and high school.” When I look up, her eyes are still on me, patiently waiting. “I traveled a lot when I was younger, too.”</p><p>“Have you gone to Texas?!” Mallory(?) piped up. I look at her, still not able to pick her apart from her twin sister sitting next to her, and slightly smile. </p><p>“Yup. Been just about everywhere.”</p><p>That seemed to be impressive. She let out an astounded gasp before she started back on her plate. “Someday mommy and daddy said they’ll take <em> me </em> to Texas.”</p><p>“What’s so good about Texas?” the older boy across from Mallory said. I try to remember his name, but I’m lost from the flurry of names and ages that Marina gave me earlier. </p><p>“It’s so <em>big! </em>” she exclaims. She reaches out her arms to give a visual representation and nearly clocks her sister in the head while doing it, “And it’s where the cowboys are! I wanna see the cowboys!”</p><p>“Cowboys are everywhere, <em> stupid</em>,” the younger boy, Mason, says.</p><p>“I’m not stupid, <em> you’re </em> stupid!” Mallory(?) retorts.</p><p>“Settle down, you two.” The sigh came from Marina’s older brother, I think she said Joshua, and he barely looks up from her plate while he’s cutting his next bite off. “It’s not polite to name-call, especially in front of our guest.”</p><p>The two quiet down and start back on their meals. I’m surprised it took almost nothing to calm them down.</p><p>“Sounds exciting,” Penny says, starting up the conversation again. “Do you think you’ll keep traveling for a while? Or do you have a place in mind you want to go next?”</p><p>She’s still looking at me and I fidget a little. “Well…” My voice trails off and I send another glance Marina’s way. She meets my gaze. I haven’t talked about this with her yet, since we normally just drive from place to place, wherever she finds in the travel guides that she thinks might be fun. “I was thinking of going through all the States, but figured we’d head out to the East Coast.”</p><p>A screech of a knife on a plate makes me look to my left and across the table, where Delilah is sitting, but she acts that she didn’t make a sound. </p><p>“Have you been there before?” Penny asks, regaining my attention.</p><p>“Yeah,” I say, “A couple of years ago. If we plan it right, we might be able to see some leaves change color, and maybe miss most of the snow.” </p><p>Marina’s head turns to look at me with an expression that is only mildly less than ecstatic. I half expect her to explode out of her seat. “Or maybe we can plan it so we’re there <em>for </em>the snow,” she says, slightly under her breath. I smile and release my fork so I can pinch her on the elbow as if to say that I heard her. </p><p>“We took a vacation to Maine when we were younger. It was beautiful in the wintertime. Snow was everywhere, and it truly seemed magical,” Penny says with a wistful sigh. “We traveled quite a bit before we decided to get serious about having kids.” </p><p>“So you have been together for a long time…?” I ask.</p><p>Penny nods. “Since we were about Marina’s age. We dated in high school and we traveled until we got married and settled down.” </p><p>“Ugh, please tell me this isn’t going to be another tale about how lovey-dovey you were as kids?” The boy who had pessimistically asked his sister about Texas groans. Apparently I’ve found my kindred spirit in this family: the curmudgeon. </p><p>“Someday you’re going to meet someone who is going to change your attitude around, Stu,” Penny says with a wave of her knife, almost as if she was tutting at him with it instead of a finger. </p><p>“It’s <em>embarrassing </em>hearing about all of that,” he complains some more, “It’s gross. We don’t need to hear about how you got together, or any of that. It always turns into a story about you kissing or whatever.”</p><p>“I saw Marina and Amber kissing!” </p><p>I almost suck the red potato I put in my mouth straight into my windpipe. I cough with my mouth closed and stare, wide-eyed, as Mallory (who was, in fact, the quiet triplet until now) bursts out with her observation. I can almost feel the heat from Marina’s face as she sits beside me.</p><p>“Busted,” Joshua says with a smirk. </p><p>“We—“ Marina tries to come up with a comeback but ends up just puffing out her cheeks.</p><p>“Can we <em> not </em> talk about kissing at the table?” Delilah asks. Her voice is quiet and even-toned, almost like Mariah’s when she’s calm and sober, the complete opposite of Marina’s bubbly cadence. The rest of the siblings go quiet and I look back down at my plate and decide to cut my potatoes in half so I don’t risk another choking episode.</p><p>The door opens and the younger three all turn in their seats to look over the back. “Daddy’s home!” Madeline cheers. </p><p>“Yes I am,” a male voice, deep and soft, comes from the entryway. As he comes down the hallway, I can see now that this is where the other siblings start getting the traits that differ from Marina’s. His hair is short and combed back tidy and neat, a light brown color. His eyes are a vivid blue, closer in shade to Marina’s but a little darker. He’s tall, lean, and dressed in a suit that looks as good as it does expensive. His face has a neutral expression on it that slowly warms as he comes to the kids and gently ruffles each of their heads. Mason scrambles to comb down his hair once his father’s hand is removed. “Did you all behave for your mother?” he asks as he walks over to her side. She looks up and gently turns up her head to receive a small kiss from him. The smaller kids mutter an in-unison “Ewwww…”</p><p>“Marina’s home!”</p><p>He chuckles. “I see that,” he answers and then looks to Marina before noticing me. “And you must be Amber,” he says. “Welcome. I hope they’re behaving for you too.”</p><p>“Yeah, they are,” I lie with a smile.</p><p>He walks around the table and sits at the opposite end of his wife, putting the napkin at his place on his lap. “Now, what were we talking about?” he asks pleasantly. </p><p>“We were talking about them kissing!” Mallory chirps again.</p><p>I can’t hold back a guttural groan this time as the subject is breached <em>again</em>.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. I Was Right About Marina Being an Angel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Amber starts to learn first-hand how a family this big operates and makes her first new enemy.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After the rest of the dinner is coaxed away from the fact that Marina and I kissed once, I vow to never let her siblings see us do <em> anything </em> that could be a source of entertainment. We retreat into the living room with everyone, where there are multiple pieces of furniture for all of the family members to sit on. Marina ends up on the couch with me squished in the corner, her youngest siblings all fighting for the prize of sitting on her empty side. </p><p>While they catch up, I take the reprieve of having to speak to look around the room. The house itself is big on the inside, but it’s also heavily decorated. There are pictures on every wall, and in the living room are shelves of different clay-creations that were no doubt a product of each individual child. There are also different canvases with cliche sayings on them like “Home is where the family is” and “The most important things aren’t things”. It’s a little corny for my taste, but I can see where Marina’s general attitude started from.</p><p>“… And then we saw <em> so </em> many trees! It was beautiful! Right, Amber?”</p><p>Marina leaning heavily into my right side made me look up at her. She stares, expectantly, while her parents sit across the room and do the same thing. I look between all of them before I nod, not sure what I was being dragged into. </p><p>“Our first hike was <em> awful </em> though. We could barely <em> breathe </em> and there were times I thought I was going to fall off!”</p><p>Oh. She’s talking about Angel’s Landing.</p><p>We <em> had </em> managed to make it back there, on a day when there was no fog, and the hike was much more bearable than it had been the first time up. Awaiting at its peak was the view that Gramps had always said would be there, and he hadn’t over embellished at all. It had been like looking at a green river. Marina hadn’t stopped talking about it the entire drive back to New Mexico. It had been worth making the climb one more time.</p><p>I look at Marina while she tells her family about our adventures. She touches on each part of the gold rush that we played part in, how we met Mariah, Joey, and Tess, and all of the landmarks we visited. Her siblings sit and stare at her, even Stu having hard time feigning disinterest while she talks about our trip to find the miner’s gold and then Coachella and the past three weeks since.</p><p>“It sounds like you girls had some trip,” Jeremiah, Marina’s father, says. He has a kind smile that barely wrinkles his face, his expression warm but mostly stoic. “When are you planning on heading out?”</p><p>I don’t answer. I look at Marina and, unfortunately, she looks at me too. Apparently I was <em> supposed </em> to know the answer to this question. </p><p>“We hadn’t really talked about it,” I answer, which seems like the best way to put it. Marina had said that we’d be leaving after dinner, which I assumed that meant tonight, but the way that she looks at me makes me think that there is more to what she wants than she’s outrightly saying. </p><p>“You are more than welcome to stay the night if you’d like,” Penny says, looking at her husband on her left. He nods at her and then sends the same solid smile back to us. “We can set up the couch for you, Amber. The only spare bed we have right now is Paxton’s, and we wouldn’t want to force you into the boys’ room.”</p><p>Her and me both.</p><p>“No, it’s okay, the motorhome has a bed in it, so I’m fine with using that. Don’t trouble yourself on my part,” I tell her, trying to sound as sincere as I can. I don’t want them to go to the trouble just as much as I don’t want to stay. </p><p>“Are you sure…?” Penny’s voice sounds regretful in a way. “At least feel free to be in the house… Our home is your home. You can shower upstairs, too, and wash your clothes or anything that you need. Please feel free.”</p><p>How earnest her voice is makes me warm and uncomfortable at the same time. “That… Would be great, actually… Thanks…” Laundry opportunities are few and far between, and although we splurged with some of our treasure to get us some new clothes, washing them has been a problem, especially with all the hiking we’ve been doing.</p><p>I look to my right and see Marina beaming towards me. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. She’s enjoying this far too much. </p><p>“Does that mean you’re going to stay tonight?” Madeline, who managed to solidify her spot by hooking her arms around Marina’s, asks her older sister. </p><p>Marina looks down at her and then nods once. “Yup!”</p><p>The kids cheer. “Will you tell us stories before bed again?!” Mason asks.</p><p>Marina giggles. “If you want.”</p><p>“Yeah!” Again, all of the youngest children seem ecstatic. She laughs and I continue to look at her, feeling the familiar pitter-patter in my chest that comes so often from looking at her and realizing all over again how sweet she is. This is a whole new level of her sweetness and even my bitter heart can’t find a way to hate it. </p><hr/><p>A few hours later, Marina has Mason, Mallory, and Madeline’s attention as she’s reading a book, one that features cats who adventure(I think). They’re not on the first book, so it’s hard to figure out what is going on, but Marina reads clearly and her younger siblings are enchanted. Madeline and Mallory are both in their beds, laying down and listening, while Mason has squeezed onto Marina’s with her and is curled into her side. The bed wasn’t big enough for all of us, so I’m left sitting in the corner by the door, a silent bystander.</p><p>She’s got this big sister thing down pat. Apparently all the practice has made her into a master. More than that, though, watching her has given me new insight into what her world normally is… It’s interesting to see a family dynamic that is so different from what mine was.</p><p>Marina comes to an end of a chapter and looks down. “You getting sleepy, Mase?”</p><p>The boy shakes his head and buries his face into her thigh. “No…” He can’t cover the drowsiness in his voice.</p><p>Marina switches the book into her left hand and gently rubs his back with her right. “Come on, let’s get you to bed. I’m sure Amber wants to go to bed too.”</p><p>She’s right, but all I do is smile. She looks at me and shoots me a small smile back. </p><p>“Then you’re gonna come back, right?” A sleepy Madeline pipes up. She lifts her head from the bed across from Marina’s and I can see Mallory has lifted her head up too from the upper bunk.</p><p>“We all need to get to sleep, though,” she replies, looking at her younger sisters.</p><p>“You’re not going to sleep in here?”</p><p>I feel my smile start to fade as irritation blossoms in my chest.</p><p>“Well…”</p><p>Uh oh.</p><p>Marina looks towards me with her eyebrows tilted up. There is a small smile on her face still, but her entire expression seems unsure. She’s looking at me for an answer, although I can probably guess as to which way she wants me to go.</p><p>“I’ll be fine for one night,” I tell her, trying to answer her question rather than give a direct one to the triplets.</p><p>“Are you sure?” she asks. </p><p>“Yeah.”  Well, no, but I can’t tell her that. I start to stand up and use the wall to help. “I’m getting tired, though, so I’ll probably take a shower and then head to bed.”</p><p>“Oh, okay…” There’s defeat in her voice. Shit. “Do you remember where it is?”</p><p>“My memory’s not <em> that </em> bad, Mare,” I reply, teasing. “I’ll stop in before I head out. I think they’re awake enough for another chapter. What do you say, guys?”</p><p>There’s a small murmur of agreement and Marina’s face lightens up again. “Okay. One more, then it’s off to bed.”</p><p>I exit the room and grab a towel from the linen closet that’s poised right outside the bathroom and make a quick stop at the laundry room door, which is also on the second floor, to pull some clean clothes from the dryer. Everyone had gone through the ritual of brushing their teeth earlier, and apparently most of the family showers in the morning, so bathroom traffic is low right now. With one shower, they can’t really afford not to schedule. I close the door behind me and bend down to open the cabinet below the sink. Different colored plastic drawers are labelled with everyone’s name and filled with their own products. Marina’s is a bright pink color, and has a bottle of shampoo and body wash in it. I crack open the top of the bottles and smell them. Not bad, a little more flowery than I’m used to, but it’ll work. </p><p>I strip and step into the water after about fifteen-seconds. The water gets hot quickly and has a surprising amount of pressure, almost like I’m getting a massage. I scrub away the dirt and sweat from my body, taking extra care since I’m not on a time crunch like we normally are if we shower in the motorhome. Even with the extra attention, I’m still out of the shower in under five minutes and pull on my t-shirt and pants. They’re clean and warm and feel fluffy and new.</p><p>I step out of the bathroom and clutch my towel to my chest. I put that on top of the washing machine too, not sure where to leave it. I can hear a conversation in the girls’ room, but it’s not the playful chattering of the kids that I had left. It’s more of a hushed, quiet conversation, and the voices sound more mature. </p><p>“— I just don’t like her.”</p><p>“Why would you say that? She hasn’t done anything wrong.”</p><p>I freeze outside the door. The way that they’re talking, I wonder if the younger kids have actually fallen asleep, because that is <em> definitely </em> Delilah and Marina. </p><p>“Something’s just off about her, Marina.”</p><p>“There’s nothing <em> off </em> about her, Lilah. She’s a good person, and you hardly even know her.”</p><p>“A person who just picked you up off the side of the road and then kidnapped you for two months? Yeah, that sounds like a good person.”</p><p><em> Ouch </em>.</p><p>“She didn’t <em> kidnap </em> me. I <em> wanted </em> to go with her.”</p><p>Marina’s defenses are good, but they’re not solid enough. </p><p>“You <em> should </em> have wanted to come home. It’s bad enough that you went out by yourself and got the car stolen before the end of the day, but then you decided to settle down with the first person who came along? The person who could barely talk at dinner, let alone try to be pleasant?”</p><p>My teeth grind together. Delilah clearly has been mulling this over for the past few hours. It’s rich coming from her since <em> she </em> is the one who has barely said anything since we arrived. </p><p>“You deserve <em> better </em> than that. Do you even <em> know </em> her?”</p><p>“Of course I <em> know </em> her. I <em> love </em> her.”</p><p>Delilah does one short laugh, similar to how Mariah does, and it instantly sets me more on edge. “You <em> love </em>her? Come on, Marina, be serious. You’ve barely had any relationships as it is. You wouldn’t know love if it came up to you and stamped itself on your forehead.”</p><p>“You don’t know her.” Marina’s tone changes, sounding insistent, and I feel a slight pressure clamp around my chest. Delilah’s rampaging blows against my character has started to wear Marina down. </p><p>“I don’t <em> need </em> to know her. She’s not good enough and you can do better.”</p><p>I take that as my cue and knock on the door. I don’t wait for a call out to open it. Delilah has spun around and looks at me with a death glare. Marina seems more surprised. “H-Hi,” she manages, struggling to act normal, “How was the shower?”</p><p>“Good,” I answer her, also trying to pretend like I hadn’t heard the conversation for the past few minutes and ultimately pulling it off better than Marina, “I just wanted to say goodnight.” I look past Delilah and step forward until I’m at Marina’s side. Mason is asleep on her lap, his fist still curled on her thigh like her leg is a pillow. I look at her and see how she looks back at me, the force of her smile unnatural. </p><p>“Goodnight,” I say to her before I lean down and kiss her. I don’t care if Delilah is watching, or if Mallory and Madeline are actually awake and <em> can </em> see. I have to kiss her. I have to show <em> her </em> that I care.</p><p>It helps that it’s a figurative middle finger to her sister when I wish I could give her a real one. </p><p>I pull my head back and gently cup her round cheek in my hand. I brush my thumb over her skin as she looks at me warmly. “See you in the morning,” I tell her before I turn away and say a hasty “goodnight” to her sister.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Words Are Hard</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Their first night away from each other in over a month is difficult for Amber to stomach.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Since Palm Springs, Marina and I have been attached at the hip.</p><p>Where she goes, I go.</p><p>Where I go, she goes.</p><p>So now that I lay in our bed and stare up at the ceiling and at the light that threatens to blind me with how bright white it is, I feel inexplicably <em> lonely </em>. </p><p>Marina’s chatter fills up every square inch of this motor home, whatever space isn’t is normally music or the sounds of the road while we drive. Even when we have some quiet moments as we settle down for the night, there is normally some sort of background noise that we have running, or Marina is humming, <em> something </em> to keep the silence at bay.</p><p>And now that silence has swallowed up everything and is <em> deafeningly </em> loud. </p><p>I groan loudly, the <em> one </em> advantage there is to having the motorhome to myself, and roll over. I bury my head in the pillow and scrunch it around my face. I’m bored. I’m bored, I’m not tired, and I am feeling increasingly idiotic about the fact that I can’t stay away from Marina for more than fifteen minutes without feeling my sanity starting to wash away.</p><p>After a few seconds of breathing through the pillow, I look up and press my chin against it instead. Beside the bed, where there used to be only a few pictures of me and Gramps from the days when I was young and didn’t care about having my picture taken, there are more pictures now of Marina and me. Most of them are selfies that Marina has forced on me, some of them being at the Worlds Largest Thermometer from right before Coachella. We’ve taken a few since, because Marina <em> loves </em> taking pictures. There’s one of her gesturing out to the green that we saw at Angel’s Landing, the forest behind her in the background, while she wears one of the largest smiles I’ve ever seen. There’s a photo she took of me while I roasted a marshmallow at the campground we were at for the night, the marshmallow visibly on fire already within the flames. </p><p>Her favorite is the first one she took of us in California, with her lips pressed to my cheek and my surprised, almost vacant expression. She always says it’s the cutest thing to see me when I’m surprised. </p><p>I think I look stupid, but she loves that picture. I can’t say no to her when it’s something she loves.</p><p>What am I doing…?</p><p>I groan again and roll over in bed, releasing the pillow. I get up and walk towards the main cabin. It’s so empty now without Marina here… She’s always been within a few feet of me since we started traveling, so seeing the empty space is sort of jarring. </p><p>Once upon a time, I preferred it this way.</p><p>To be in here, alone, with no one but myself and the ghost of my memories. </p><p>It’s hard to believe that so much can change in just a couple months. </p><p>I slump onto the small couch and stare up at the ceiling again. </p><p>We never had a tv or anything in here. Gramps didn’t even like it at the house. We just read, or explored, or listened to music. We visited with friends. There was always a lot to do even if it felt like there was very little.</p><p>And without him… When I wasn’t driving, I was sleeping. Even in the long stretches of desert highway where it was just a flat expanse for miles, I could still have something to focus on rather than my grief. And, just a few days later, I had something new to focus on.</p><p>Marina.</p><p>I close my eyes, seeing the warm orange of the light through my eyelids, and take in a deep breath. The two times we had ever been separate since then had been hell for different reasons. Since Palm Springs, I swore not to let her be alone again… Not after the stunt that I pulled. Not after I caused her to cry all night, alone, and betrayed the trust she put in me by forcing a bus ticket on her that she didn’t want. I vowed to make it right. To do right by her. </p><p>It was the least I could do, after everything she’s done for me.</p><p>Does leaving her in the house really count as leaving?</p><p>If she’s with her family, does it count as me breaking my promise?</p><p>A knock at the door makes me jump. I look at it for a few seconds before I get up and actually open it. </p><p>Joshua is standing there, and he gives me a wide, closed-mouth smile. “Hi Amber,” he says.</p><p>“Hey…” I answer, “Everything okay?”</p><p>He nods and continues to smile. “Marina asked if I would give this to you,” he says, and holds out his hand. In it is a black smartphone, one that looks a little old and well-loved. </p><p>I grimace. “I uh… Don’t really use these.”</p><p>“She said you’d say that,” he nods, “But she said to ask you to take it for her, and added on a ‘pretty please’ at the end.” </p><p>Dammit, she’s figured me out.</p><p>I take the phone out of his hand and nod to him. “Tell her thanks, I guess?” I say, then remember what little manners I apparently have, “And, uh… Thanks for… Helping her?”</p><p>Joshua nods. He takes a step back from the steps of the motorhome and put his hands in his pockets. “She’s my sister. We do what we have to do,” he says, although the warmth of his face says that he did it out of more than just familial obligation. “Have a good night,” he says with another nod. He’s about to walk off when he turns back to me and continues, “And, if it’s any consolation… <em> I </em> think you’re a good person.”</p><p>I wince. “You heard that, huh?”</p><p>His smile turns a little smug. “Thin walls,” he says simply. He sounds almost like Joey in how he pointed it out. “Night, Amber.”</p><p> </p><p>I watch him take a few steps away from the motorhome before I slowly creak the door closed and lock it. I look at the phone in my hand and turn it over a few times. </p><p>Why would she want me to have this? She knows I don’t use phones. Never needed one. Never <em> wanted </em> one. </p><p>Well, except that one time in Las Vegas, but that was because it was an <em> emergency </em>.</p><p>I put the phone down on the table and decide to look at it later. I open the fridge door, looking for something to occupy myself with, before the phone starts to buzz.</p><p>I look at it and then pick it up.</p><p>There is a single app on the phone’s screen, Bridgefy. I poke at it, which opens up another screen, which displays a white screen with one name on it. Marina’s.</p><p> </p><p><b>Marina: </b>hey, can you see this?</p><p>If she was in front of me right now, she would have a perfect opportunity for another one of those pictures she loves. </p><p>I hover my finger over the phone’s screen and then tap at the very bottom. It takes me a while to type out a message in response. It’s been at least a year since I used a computer and I’ve never used one of these.</p><p> </p><p><b>Amber:</b> Yeah. Everything okay?</p><p> </p><p>It takes a few seconds for Marina to type back. The entire time I’m waiting I can feel my pulse beating in my ears.</p><p> </p><p><b>Marina: </b>Yeah</p><p><b>Marina:</b> Just wanted to check on you</p><p><b>Marina:</b> It’s weird being away from you</p><p> </p><p>I smile. Apparently she’s not doing well either. </p><p> </p><p><b>Amber: </b>We’re pathetic</p><p> </p><p><b>Marina:</b> Are not!</p><p><b>Marina: </b>Okay, maybe a little…</p><p><b>Marina:</b> Are you going to be okay?</p><p> </p><p><b>Amber: </b>I might not be able to sleep without your snoring, but I’ll make it work</p><p> </p><p><b>Marina:</b> I don’t snore!</p><p> </p><p>I smile. I can hear her say it even though she’s just writing it.</p><p> </p><p><b>Marina:</b> It’s weird to be back here… But it’s nice to see everyone. They all seem to like you</p><p> </p><p><b>Amber:</b> What about Delilah?</p><p>It’s stupid to focus on it, but it bugs me. Still bugs me. </p><p> </p><p><b>Marina:</b> I wondered if you heard that…</p><p><b>Marina:</b> Delilah is stubborn. She always treats me like a little kid</p><p> </p><p>I’m not sure what to say to her. All of the words I want sound stupid. After all, until about a week ago, I <em> also </em>treated her like a little kid. She finally told me that it bothered her that I called her kiddo. I hadn’t thought twice about it. It was something Gramps had called me, and something I affiliated with affection. I didn’t think it would bother her. Ever since, though, I made sure to erase it from my vernacular.</p><p> </p><p><b>Amber:</b> I don’t think I’m going to make any headway with her either</p><p><b>Amber:</b> But I really only care about what you think of me anyway</p><p> </p><p><b>Marina:</b> You know I love you &lt;3</p><p> </p><p>I smile. </p><p> </p><p><b>Amber: </b>And you know I love you</p><p><b>Amber:</b> I miss you</p><p> </p><p>The words sound stupid but they’re the only ones I have. </p><p> </p><p><b>Marina:</b> Aww, Amber, you softie</p><p> </p><p><b>Amber: </b>Shut up</p><p><b>Amber:</b> I’m just used to seeing you every second of every day. It’s weird </p><p> </p><p><b>Marina:</b> Hey</p><p><b>Marina:</b> Open up the skylight</p><p> </p><p>I pause as I look at the phone. Then I look towards our room. There is a skylight on the roof over the bed, but… </p><p>I walk over there, stand on the bed, and slowly open the hatch. When I stick my head out of the top, I look around and see Marina’s face in her window outlined by the moonlight. I look at her and instantly feel my heart stop. </p><p>She gives me a small wave and I wave back at her. I can only imagine that there is the stupidest smile on my face right now. </p><p>She looks down and I see that she’s typing on the phone. I had left the one I was using on the bed to open the skylight. I crouch back to the bed to grab it just before her text comes in.</p><p> </p><p><b>Marina:</b> Hi beautiful</p><p> </p><p>I look down at the phone and then smirk at her before I text back.</p><p> </p><p><b>Amber:</b> This is a sickness, us texting while we’re three feet away from each other. </p><p> </p><p>The text makes her giggle. I can tell by the way her cheeks get a little rounder and her smile widens a bit more. If my stupefied face is her favorite, her laughing one is mine. </p><p> </p><p><b>Marina:</b> Better than not seeing you</p><p><b>Marina: </b>Plus, I can’t be too loud. Mal and Maddy are finally asleep</p><p><b>Marina:</b> I just wanted to see you one more time</p><p> </p><p><b>Amber:</b> I’m not complaining</p><p> </p><p>I look at her and she looks up at me. There is a long moment where we just stare at each other, separated by panes of glass and a frustratingly small amount of space. After a minute, I pick up the phone and send her another message.</p><p> </p><p><b>Amber:</b> As much as I’m enjoying our Romeo and Juliet sequence we have going on, I’d much rather you be out here</p><p> </p><p>Marina reads it and smiles.</p><p> </p><p><b>Marina: </b>Just one night. I’ll come back and sleep with you tomorrow.</p><p> </p><p>As soon as I read her message I give her a small raise of my eyebrows.</p><p> </p><p><b>Marina:</b> That’s not what I meant!</p><p><b>Marina: </b>You said we had to be good!</p><p> </p><p><b>Amber: </b>That was before I saw you looking this beautiful. Now I’m having second thoughts. Too bad you’re in there and I’m out here…</p><p> </p><p>I watch her squirm, trying to figure out what to say. I send her another message. If I tease her too much, she’s going to start feeling guilty about her decision.</p><p> </p><p><b>Amber:</b> Stay there, dork. The sooner you fall asleep, the sooner I can be back with you again.</p><p> </p><p><b>Marina:</b> Promise?</p><p> </p><p>We share another look, and instead of texting her again I just give her a nod. Then, I say, “I love you,” even though I know she can’t hear me through the window, at least not as well as I wish she could. She smiles, though, and although I’m not sure if she heard me at all at first, she leans closer to the window and breathes on it. The haze that covers a small spot on the window is light, but enough that the heart she draws in it is clearly visible. While I’m melting over that, she lifts the same fingers that she used to draw the heart to her lips, kisses them, and then slowly blows me the kiss. I grasp the invisible gift in my hand and squeeze it tight. With another wave, she retreats from the window and I close the hatch. </p><p>When I lie back in bed, I feel a little more at peace with how this was shaping up. Sleep doesn’t come easily, but it eventually comes, and I don’t let go of the phone or Marina’s pillow.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Maybe I Could Get Used to the Home Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Amber has a breakthrough and doesn't actually hate it.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It takes me a while to fall asleep without the normal hums of Marina’s noises, but morning eventually arrives. The sunlight breaks into the motorhome and I stir. It takes a few minutes for me to wake up enough to actually get up, but once I’m able to start the coffee brewing it’s an easier transition. I down my first two cups, barely awake during the first one. </p>
<p>A knock on the door makes me look up just before I pour my third cup. I put the coffee pot back into the coffee maker and turn around to open the door. Penny is standing there, smiling brightly at me.</p>
<p>“Good morning,” she says.</p>
<p>I try to cover my surprised face fast enough to be cordial. “Good morning,” I say to her. </p>
<p>Penny continues to smile. “Marina said you were an early riser. I wanted to invite you in for some coffee and breakfast.”</p>
<p>The promise of food was good, but the idea of social-hour at the Hale house without Marina present made me a bit queasy. I struggle with the desire to hide in the motorhome, Delilah’s words ringing in my head about my antisocial behavior.. “Sure…” I say, forcing a small smile, “Let me change and I’ll be right in.”</p>
<p>“Oh, of course, of course! No rush at all. I’ll keep the coffee warm for you,” She departs and I slowly close the door.</p>
<p>Joy. I was doing so good at this.</p><hr/>
<p>A few minutes later, I let myself into their house. It feels weird coming into it like I belong here, but the whole house is quiet and I am not immediately bombarded with nine bodies. I walk as quietly down the hallway as I can. The straight-shot from the front door to the kitchen is only about twenty feet. The whole house smells like eggs and bacon. Penny must have been cooking for hours.</p>
<p>I come around the corner and Penny is actually standing by the stove, her spatula moving against some more eggs in the frying pan. There are a few plates by her right that have a few different styles piled on them, from scrambled to hard-boiled to sunny-side up. “Wow…” I say, a little shocked. But then again, with that many mouths to feed, she must be up early constantly.</p>
<p>Penny smiles and looks at me. “I wasn’t sure how you like them, so I made a little bit extra of each,” she explains, then jerks her head slightly to the countertop behind her by the kitchen sink, “Coffee’s over there if you want some.”</p>
<p>“Absolutely. Thanks,” I say. There are a bunch of mugs already on the counter by the coffee maker. Apparently I’m not the only one who drinks coffee. I pour myself a cup and then turn and lean against the counter by it. It’s hot and bold, unlike how Marina used to make it. </p>
<p>“Do you need any creamer or anything?” Penny asks.</p>
<p>“No, black is fine. Thanks though.”</p>
<p>She smiles and shoots me a small look over her right shoulder. “That’s how I drink it too.” That was probably the most shocking thing I had heard. With how much Marina looked like her, I almost expected her to be into the sugary-sweet and creamy. My shock must have been on my face because she let out a small giggle. “Let me guess - you expected me to like it like Marina does?”</p>
<p>“Yup,” I answer.</p>
<p>“<em>That </em> she gets from her brother.”</p>
<p>Shocking on top of shocking. I take another small sip of my coffee to keep from saying anything else.</p>
<p>“So we have bacon, eggs, sausage… There are some English muffins or bread, so you can do toast… I’ve also got fruit.”</p>
<p>It’s… A cornucopia. </p>
<p>“That all sounds… Really good. I’m sorry if I’m putting you out.”</p>
<p>“Nonsense,” she says with a shake of her head, “I’m happy to do it.”</p>
<p>The way she says it sounds like she really <em>means </em>it. It’s a weird sentiment to feel. I’m so used to fending for myself that the idea of staying someone and receiving hospitality is foreign and uncomfortable. </p>
<p>“Can I help with anything?” I offer. I don’t mind offering, either. In fact, I feel a little regretful about my disdain earlier.</p>
<p>“If you’d like to start toasting some bread for me? The toaster’s over by the breadbox. We’re going to need at least eight pieces. Make some for yourself too, if you’d like.” </p>
<p>I nod and walk nearby her, about four feet away, and open the breadbox to start arranging the bread. She slides an empty plate across the countertop and closer to me. Once I set it to toast, she also has me starting to slice some apples. We work in silence for a few minutes before she scrapes the last of the eggs onto their appropriate places and turns off the stove. I follow her and start setting out the plates of apple slices and toast that I’ve created. “Thanks for the help,” she says, “Now we just wait for them to stumble down.”</p>
<p>“Are they all asleep?” I ask. “Do we play a triangle to get them all up?”</p>
<p>She smiles. “Jeremiah and Joshua are up. They were working on some paperwork in the study. Mason should be up soon, along with Mallory and Madeline, and the rest will normally follow.” She pulls out the chair she sat at during dinner last night and sits in it, putting both hands around her coffee cup. I sit in one closer to her, different from mine last night although I’m certain I’ll have to take my place later on once the rest of them have woken up. </p>
<p>“Working already?” I ask.</p>
<p>Penny nods. “Joshua works at the firm with Jeremiah,” she explains softly. I remember that Marina had said her dad was a defense attorney. It explains how they can even keep up feeding a family of eleven, let alone all the other expenses that come with life. If it wasn’t for the treasure, I’d still be buried under mountains of debt and I was only a single person…</p>
<p>“That’s cool,” I say before taking another sip of my coffee. It’s still really hot even after the past few minutes of sitting neglected while I helped make breakfast.</p>
<p>“Paxton’s working on his degree as well. Wants to join the firm, too, once he’s done. It’ll be a few years but he’s almost done with his Bachelor’s.”</p>
<p>“What about Delilah and Henry?” I’m starting to get some of these names down. </p>
<p>“Delilah’s an artist, and Henry is a teacher at the elementary school, so he’s off for summer vacation right now.”</p>
<p>It’s an eclectic amount of professions in the house. I’m surprised to hear that Delilah is an artist. It seems too soft of a profession for the girl who was firing daggers at me behind my back last night.</p>
<p>“What about you, Amber? Any thoughts about what you might want to do?” she asks.</p>
<p>I’ve hated this question for a long time. It’s not any easier to answer now. “Um…” I start, feeling the lame excuses start to pile in my throat, “Not really… I hadn’t really thought about it much… Been a little busy with things until recently.”</p>
<p>“With your grandfather, right?”</p>
<p>I stiffen immediately and look at her. I’m shocked she knows. Penny tries to offer me a sympathetic smile. “Marina told me.” Of course, she did. I’m not surprised but I am a little irritated that she talked about it. Sure, his death isn’t something that’s a secret, but it’s sensitive to me and I’d rather everyone <em>not </em>know about it. “I’m sorry for your loss.”</p>
<p>“Thanks.” My throat is dry as I say it and stays dry even after another sip of coffee. </p>
<p>“I’m sure Marina’s already said something like it, but if there’s anything we can do, please feel free to ask, okay?”</p>
<p>I look at her and the genuine expression of kindness on her face. I’m not used to this at all, outside of Marina, but the sincerity can’t be mistaken. “I appreciate it,” I say, rather than ask the biting question at the back of my throat of <em>why </em>she would offer that to me. I’m practically a stranger. </p>
<p>Marina did the same thing, too.</p>
<p>She doesn’t press the subject. Instead, she asks me questions on where I’ve been in the past, and we share stories of our favorite adventures over our coffees. I refill her cup when I go for my next one. It’s surprisingly nice. </p>
<p>When I hear footsteps above us, about fifteen minutes have passed, and I look to the ceiling. “That’s Mason,” Penny says with a small laugh. I look at her and then hear a few more thumps of feet hitting the ground before I can hear some coming down the stairs. Sure enough, the youngest three all appear and start heading towards the table. “Morning, kids. Sleep well?” Penny asks. They all nod and say good morning to me, which I manage to return without a lot of pause.</p>
<p>I munch on toast and a bit of eggs and bacon while the kids chatter at the table and amuse themselves. Penny leaves briefly to bring two plates into the study, but returns and sits at the table to further encourage the triplets on whatever conversation they’re engaged in. Their plates, as well as mine, are almost clean by the time I hear another set of feet hit the ground above us. </p>
<p>Sleepily, Marina makes her way downstairs. Her face is groggy like she could fall asleep standing up, but I’m overjoyed to see her. I feel lighter than I had been feeling this morning if that was even possible. “Morning…” she muttered to everyone in her normal half-asleep tone that I’m so accustomed to. She then focuses her eyes on me and stops by my chair. “Morning,” she says to me, a little warmer, and pauses. </p>
<p>The brief second of hesitation and unnecessary pause makes me wonder if she was going to kiss me for a second and then thought better of it. </p>
<p>“Morning,” I return, “Want coffee?” She nods. I stand up and push my chair out a little. “Sit, I’ll get you a cup.” </p>
<p>“Thank you…” She’s still sleepy but I’m pretty used to our early-morning exchanges. She never really wakes up until she’s halfway through her coffee, or getting dressed, or panicking because we were supposed to leave an hour ago and we didn’t wake up on time. </p>
<p>Once I fill a cup with sugar, cream, and too little coffee to really justify either of the first two ingredients, I return to Marina and put the coffee on the table. I slide my mug over to the chair next to her and take my new seat. I lean over my lap, holding my mug in one hand, and gently draw a heart over Marina’s thigh over and over. She smiles at me and, after her first sip, cups her own mug in her left hand and then slides her fingers into mine. </p>
<p>“Mama, are we going to the market today?” Mason asks while he shovels another spoonful of scrambled eggs into his mouth, almost clearing his plate. </p>
<p>“Yes, we’ll go after lunch,” Penny answers, then cheerfully looks at us, “Would you like to go to the Farmers’ Market with us? They have quite an array of goodies to pick up.” </p>
<p>I used to stop at Farmers’ Markets all the time with Gramps. He always said it was the best place to get any sort of food because it was good and wasn’t expensive. We hadn’t been to one in a long time. I look at Marina, who looks at me, and I shrug. “Sounds like it could be fun,” I say, receiving a small smile from my girlfriend. </p>
<p>We spend the rest of the morning sipping coffee and lounging, eventually moving into the living room. Marina takes her time to change into clean clothes while I start another load of laundry, taking advantage of a large machine to get the sheets and pillowcases extra clean. Henry, Delilah, and Stu all come down eventually and pick at the remains of breakfast. By the time lunch rolls around, Penny has been cooking for another hour and everyone has settled on something different to do. Henry and Stu play cards in the living room, playing game after game of War. Joshua and Jeremiah appear time after time, mainly to come out and get water or to take a small break, before they go back into their study. The triplets disappear, as does Delilah, but I’m a little glad for the reprieve. It leaves me and Marina alone for once as she leads me to the front porch so we can sit on the bench-swing together.</p>
<p>It’s hot outside, per usual, but the shade makes it a lot more bearable.</p>
<p>“How’d you sleep…?” Marina asks me. </p>
<p>I shrug. “I was fine once I was out, but it took me a bit. How about you?”</p>
<p>She also shrugs. She leans against me slightly and I feel the pressure of her shoulder against mine. “Pretty much the same…” she said, “It was weird being back in a bunk… And I kept waking up because Maddy tosses and turns a lot.” </p>
<p>Right, sharing a room with three other people <em>would </em>mean dealing with their excess noise.</p>
<p>“They seemed really happy to have you there, though…” I say, thinking about last night. Mason curled up against Marina’s lap and the girls tucked in, all listening to Marina reading a book screamed domesticity and the simpleness of sibling relationships. Just remembering how warm Marina looked brought an equal warmth to my chest. </p>
<p>“They’re good kids,” Marina said. Her toes pressed into the ground while she rocked us gently back and forth. “I’ll be happy to be in my own bed tonight, though.”</p>
<p>“Oh yeah?” I tease. She lightly slaps my thigh with the back of her hand. We both laugh a little before I slip my hand in hers and weave our fingers together. She leans her head towards my shoulder and I press my head against the crown of hers. It’s nice, listening to the sounds of the creaking porch swing as we enjoy the early afternoon hours. </p>
<p>“Are you having an okay time?” she asks without looking up.</p>
<p>I take a minute to think about it. Despite the episode from last night, I honestly haven’t hated every second as much as I thought I would. The conversation in the kitchen with Penny this morning helped with that a lot, surprisingly. </p>
<p>“Yeah, I am,” I answer, “Had a talk with your mom this morning before the kids woke up. Helped her make breakfast.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m sure she loved that,” Marina took her opportunity to tease me, “Sucking up to my parents, huh?”</p>
<p>“Shut up…” I playfully retort. Of course, she’s not really wrong. My extra effort to try to be civil and social with her entire family has <em>mainly </em>been to suck up a little bit.</p>
<p>She falls into silence again for a few seconds before she says, “You know you don’t have to do that, right…? Try to get them to like you? They <em> already </em> like you.”</p>
<p>I count for a few seconds before nervously swallowing the air around me. “I don’t… Have the best track record with parents, Mare.”</p>
<p>I can feel her head move and she looks in my direction for a second before she settles herself back into her previous position. “You mean… With your mom?”</p>
<p>I take a few seconds to answer that. My mom <em>had </em>been included in the list, yes, but the remainder of it was history that we hadn’t covered before in our one brief talk about exes and past experience. “Her,” I say, a small amount of bitterness flooding my voice, “But I mean all parents… Girlfriends’ parents, too…” </p>
<p>She squeezes my hand again. “Thought you said that no one’s parents ever said they had to break up with you?”</p>
<p>She’s teasing, but it still sort of hurts. They aren’t the memories that I like to hold onto. </p>
<p>“They didn’t, but they also weren’t the most supportive that they could be.” Unlike Marina’s parents who have treated me and <em>us </em>just fine. There has been an uneasy <em>lack </em>of the shade I was anticipating from them which makes me feel a little more on edge than I should. “I just… Want to make sure that they like me.” I squeeze her hand a little tighter. “Because if they don’t… I don’t know if I can handle the repercussions of that.”</p>
<p>Being honest with my feelings to Marina has been a difficult task. She’s been encouraging me more and more to do it, and some of the books that are in our motorhome even edge on the “self-help” sort of category, but I’m not sure if I’m doing the best that I can. This is important, though, to be honest with her about. If her parents don’t like me, then there’s a good chance our relationship will fail.</p>
<p>I’d do anything to keep that from happening.</p>
<p>She pushes a little more against the ground and we start rocking again. “We don’t need to worry about that because they <em> do </em> like you.” She says it again like it’s a fact and I still have a hard time believing her, even though I can tell she’s earnest. Marina’s not the <em>best </em>judge of character, after all. “If they didn’t, they wouldn’t have invited you in for breakfast.”</p>
<p>I half-smile, “Really?”</p>
<p>“Well… Okay, they still would have invited you in for breakfast, but it would have been when the food was cold and almost gone rather than when it’s fresh.” </p>
<p>I laugh and she laughs with me. I give her hand another few squeezes. “I love you.” I say it all the time now, but especially when she makes me laugh. They’re the only words that I can pull that come close to representing the warmth that I feel in my chest whenever she’s around.</p>
<p>“I love you, too,” she returns, and I swear I can feel the same amount of warmth in her voice. </p>
<p>She picks her head up and looks at me, and I look back at her. As we sit here on their porch, gently swinging in the morning heat, alone, I can almost talk myself into leaning down and kissing her. Instead, I just look between her eyes, get captured in the blue, and squeeze her hand tight. </p>
<p>Too bad Marina isn’t satisfied with that, and she leans up and kisses me. </p>
<p>To be honest, I’m glad. </p>
<p>It’s the first kiss we’ve shared since yesterday that there hasn’t been an audience for, and the relief that I feel after it is intense. We sit and look at each other for a few more seconds before I gently bonk our foreheads together.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. All I Do, Do I Do It For You?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Amber's motives are called into questions.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Around four that afternoon, after we have lunch and laze around outside of the heat, we all pile into our cars and head towards the farmer’s market. There is a small remark before we leave about how if they still had Paxton’s car we wouldn’t need to go in our motorhome, but the comment is brushed off by the time we get there. </p><p>The market is <em>filled </em>with vendors and people. There are at least three dozen pop-up tents that have a large selection of wares for sale. It’s almost like Vegas all over again, except the stuff for sale doesn’t look like trash that’s been marked up by four times its worth. There are farmers that are selling their freshly picked produce, jewelers who hold their trinkets up to the sun to catch how the light can reflect in the gemstones, and even a few bakers that offer up samples of bread and cookies to those who are interested. </p><p>The family all separates from each other and we all take our own pace while exploring the grounds. Marina is like a hummingbird the way that she moves from stall to stall, looking at everything with exuberant oohs and aahs before moving to the next. The only vendors that she gets really stuck on are the ones that offer free samples, all of which she is all too eager to try. I take my time and look at all of them, staying a little extra if there’s something that catches my eye or Marina’s. She’s barely had to look at me with her best begging face before I’ve already bought some jams and chocolates that she says she couldn’t leave without. I’m a sucker. To balance it out, though, I do manage to find one baker whose bread is actually very good and I buy a couple of loaves from her. We can always freeze them if we have to. </p><p>By the time an hour passes, we’ve already picked up enough food to satisfy any sort of grocery shopping we’d need for at least a week, mostly stuff we can snack on in the car while we’re on the road as opposed to needing to stop and cook it. I have to run to the motorhome and drop off the food supplies we got because I start to run out of room in my arms to carry things. I was stupid enough to decline a bag from Penny earlier, saying that we wanted to look around first, and felt too embarrassed to admit we weren’t that careful with our spending afterward.</p><p>Marina waits for me outside the motorhome and, once I put everything onto the table and lock up again, she takes my hand and we start the short walk back from the parking area to the actual stands.</p><p>“Having fun?” she asks, her sing-song voice already knowing the answer.</p><p>“Yeah, I think so,” I say. I realize I haven’t really said anything <em> but </em>that the entire time we’ve been here. Weird. “What about you? Anything else you wanna go look at?”</p><p>Marina hums and thinks about it. “Not really…”</p><p>“That’s okay. We can keep looking around at the other stalls until the others are done.”</p><p>She looks at me and seems surprisingly ecstatic. “Really?!”</p><p>“Yes, really,” I say with a small chuckle. I squeeze her hand. While we go between the stalls, the pace much slower now that I’ve got a hold on Marina, we’re able to see a lot less but explore more of them. When she gets stuck at another bakery’s stand, I explore the coffee one next door. I end up picking up more coffee for us, since we could always use it, and the samples they were able to pour for me tasted way better than the grocery-store brand I’m used to.</p><p>“Does your mom get this kind?” I ask Marina while holding up a bag. Marina skips over to me and looks before she smiles and nods. </p><p>“Yup! How did you know?”</p><p>I shrug. “Thought it tasted familiar.” I pay for the bags that I picked up and keep them tucked under my arm. “We talked about coffee a little bit this morning. I was surprised she drank it black. Thought for sure that it was going to be something you picked up from her.”</p><p>“Nuh-uh!” Marina instantly and playfully rejects the idea. “Henry’s the one that made it so liked coffee at <em>all</em>. I wouldn’t even get near it because I didn’t like the smell. Then he made me a cup like his, so sweet and creamy, and I was okay to drink it after that!” </p><p>I laugh. Sounds about right. </p><p>“What else did you guys talk about?” Apparently I’ve inspired her curiosity.</p><p>“Mmmn, not much,” I say. She hooks her arm under my free one and stays close to me while she hums for more details. “Talked about where we’d gone, and where I went with Gramps… She told me about how she went around the coast with your dad when they were younger.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah,” Marina said, a small laugh in her own voice, “They followed the ocean through every state. They were going through the middle when they decided to settle down.”</p><p>“That’s what she said,” I agree with a nod. “She also told me a little bit more about your siblings.” Marina looks a little shocked at this. “I didn’t know your brother worked with your dad.”</p><p>Marina nodded. “Joshua is <em>very </em>smart… Paxton too. Once he’s done with school, he’s going to be great.”</p><p>“And then you’ve got a teacher, and an artist…” I lead off on purpose. </p><p>“Yeah! Henry’s always been really good with kids, so that was perfect for him, and Delilah is <em>so </em>talented. Most of the art in the house is hers, y’know.”</p><p>“Wait, what?” I’ve seen a lot of the art in the house. Aside from the one wall that had all the clay-creations on it, everything else didn’t look like it had been made by anyone other than a professional. “Are you serious?”</p><p>“Yup! She also painted all the names that are on our walls.”</p><p>“That’s… Cool I guess.” The admission makes me feel a little pained. </p><p>We walk in silence for a couple of minutes until Marina suddenly stops. “Mare?” I ask, looking to see what might have caught her eye. She smiles at me and then tugs on my arm. </p><p>“Come here,” she says as she leads me into another stand. On blue-covered tables are a bunch of jewelry stands, each covered in different leather and beaded pieces. Marina never really wears jewelry, especially leather, so the fact that she pulled me in here is a little strange. I can see the sign that caught her attention though, a large picture of bracelets with two strands braided together with names stamped on the only flat parts. <em> Perfect for Couples! </em> the sign says. There are also pictures below it of pieces that have more than two strands, which are geared more for moms or families. </p><p>“Let me know if you see anything you like,” the man behind the tables says. He’s older, his early fifties easy, and reminds me a little of the old guy at the convenience store that had started our journey many moons ago. </p><p>“We actually wanted to get some bracelets made,” Marina says. I grimace, thankful that she’s in front of me. </p><p>“Oh, you do? I can do that for you no problem,” he says while he pulls out a laminated piece of paper and hands it over to Marina. “Look that over and let me know what kind of letters you want. If your names are long, though, you’re going to want to avoid the last two because they probably won’t fit.”</p><p>Marina steps back to me and holds out the paper. She looks at my face and I must not keep up the facade that I’m thrilled.</p><p>“You okay?”</p><p>I raise my eyebrow at her. “You just normally don’t wear any kind of jewelry. I’m surprised you’re interested.”</p><p>“I don’t, but I thought we’d get matching ones!” The way she says it lights up her entire face. She looks at me again and asks quietly, “Is that okay…?”</p><p>I let out a small groan while I think about it. The sentiment is there, and while I enjoy thinking about us having something matching that could be sort of couple-y, I don’t really wear much jewelry either. Her face starts to deflate. </p><p>“We don’t have to do it…” she says, and she’s about to step forward to hand back the paper before I catch her arm and pull her back.</p><p>“It’s fine,” I say with a sigh. She continues to give me a look like she’s not convinced. “You wanna do this, so if it’ll make you happy, then we should.” She continues to struggle with it but puts on a smile. </p><p>“‘Kay.”</p><p>She ends up picking out some lettering that isn’t too frilly and shows the man behind the table. After giving him our names, he turns around to where there is a smaller table set up behind him with a plank of wood on it. The sounds of the hammer on the metal stamps makes my teeth grate, but Marina watches the entire thing and seems captivated.</p><p>It’s worth getting them just because she seems really excited by them. </p><p>When he turns around, he holds out two bracelets that are identical. Marina nearly shrieks with delight as she takes them from him. “Thanks, Mister!” she says as I pull out my wallet and pay for the two bracelets. They’re more expensive than that portrait Marina had done of us in Vegas. Yikes.</p><p>As we exit the stand and get back out in the sun, I look at her. She’s still holding the bracelets in her hand like they are a precious treasure as opposed to braided leather strips. “You happy?” I ask. She looks up at me and nods. </p><p>“Can we put them on now?”</p><p>I bite my tongue to keep from groaning. “Yeah, we can do that,” I say. I take one of the bracelets and put it on her wrist, tightening the ends of the straps so it stays tight. Once I’m done, she holds her hand out for my wrist. “Not too tight,” I ask, and she lets mine stay a little loose on my wrist so I can move it around. </p><p>All in all, they’re not <em>that </em>bad, but the part that makes them worth it is the fact that Marina clings to my side for the rest of the afternoon and keeps looking at our names engraved on the leather like it’s some sort of binding pact. If I wasn’t too busy leading us around, or looking at her, I might be doing the same thing. </p><hr/><p>Another hour goes by until we’re all on our way back from the farmer’s market. We spend the rest of the afternoon lazing around with the other siblings. Henry starts to teach us some complicated card game that makes my head spin so I let Marina take my place. She’s surprisingly into it, which causes everyone to get involved. I watch her from the couch as I sit and carefully run my fingers over the bracelet that’s now hanging off my wrist. </p><p>Seeing my name with hers gives me a little extra to feel lucky about.</p><p>I’m trying to keep myself together for her, but it’s been a lot of social time that hasn’t <em>stopped </em>for the past twenty-four hours. I’m starting to feel fatigued by it. </p><p>I get up off the couch and tap Marina on the shoulder. “I think I’m gonna go lie down for a bit,” I say. She looks up at me with a worried expression. </p><p>“You okay?” </p><p>“Yeah, just tired.”</p><p>“You wanna go up and lay down in my room? That way you don’t need to put the AC on in the motorhome?” </p><p>“Nah, I’m okay.” </p><p>“Amber, come on…” she says, “It’s a million degrees out. Please. I’ll make sure no one comes in to bug you.” </p><p>I look at her with a small amount of disbelief. The whole point of me going to lie down was to actually <em>distance </em>myself a little from everyone. Going into her room still has the chance of someone coming to get me. </p><p>But the sound of AC and not sucking power off our battery does sound good… I don’t want to push it, especially since Marina’s parents don’t have an outlet that’s the right one I need in case we use too much power. </p><p>“Fine,” I sigh, and she smiles and nods. “I’ll just be a little bit.” </p><p>“Okay.” I brush my fingers lightly against her cheek and squeeze a little before I let her go. I wouldn’t <em>dare </em>do much else with the kids all staring at us.</p><p>I walk upstairs and into her room, closing the door behind me. When it’s empty, it’s pretty quiet. I can’t hear the voices of everyone downstairs, which means that it’ll be a nice spot to relax and unwind. </p><p>I climb into her bed and stare at the ceiling for a few minutes. The quiet around me is nice. It would be better if I had Marina with me, but her siblings are attached to her hips whenever we’re home. </p><p>I spent most of the afternoon with just her and yet I still want more.</p><p>I’m greedy. Selfish. Stupid with how much I can miss her and miss our normalcy.</p><p>Not that all aspects of being here have been bad. Just…</p><p>I’m not used to sharing anything with anyone besides one other person. Before Marina it was Gramps. Even when we visited people he knew, I didn’t like sharing his attention and company for more than a few hours. It’s one of the reasons why whenever we saw Mariah and her RV that I groaned. Aside from detesting her, it was because they were <em>more </em>people who would take Marina’s attention from <em>me</em>.</p><p>Didn’t realize how much I played into the single-child stereotype.</p><p>I slowly close my eyes and try to enjoy the comfort in the silence. Unlike last night where I felt locked out and away from the world, I know that the world is just below me. I can rejoin them at any point. </p><p>Is this what it feels like…? To have siblings and parents? </p><p>The thought slices through me like a knife. It’s disrespectful to my grandpa, the man who raised me and took care of me of his own volition because no one else would. He was my family. Marina <em>became </em>my family. And now Marina’s family…</p><p>They all flash to my mind individually. Each member of the house (well, mostly) had welcomed me warmly. They brought me in as if I had always belonged. They treated me like I was already <em>their </em>family too.</p><p>But was it for my sake, or Marina’s? </p><p>That Penny knew about grandpa colored the idea of her warmth a little differently for me. How much of her acceptance was because she pitied me? Was she only nice to me because Marina had told her that she was all I had, that I didn’t have a mother who wanted me, let alone anyone else, so that I had to be pitied and coddled?</p><p>I don’t know. I don’t want to ask, either.</p><p>The door opens and I look to my right. Delilah’s standing in the doorway, sharing my shocked expression as she wipes her hands on a towel. She quickly turns to glare at me and then says with a quick snap, “I’m just getting something.”</p><p>“Be my guest…” I mutter to her, not that she waited for me to respond before she crosses the room to the other side of the bed. Since Marina’s quarter of the room is basically in front of the doorway, and the two youngest are across the room, Delilah needs to cross in front of the bed to get to the other side. I can see her movements as she digs through her desk, looking for something in one of the drawers, and pulls out a few separate art supplies. She hastily shuts the drawer and starts to stomp back to the door before she stops.</p><p>“Just so we’re clear,” she says, “I don’t trust you.”</p><p>I look at her. She has her back to me but turns afterward so that I can see the amount of unnecessary hatred in her face. </p><p>“Good for you.”</p><p>She hisses through her teeth and continues to bear down at me. “I don’t think you’re as good as Marina says you are. And I don’t think that you’re good enough for her. That you can leave her alone and then come skipping back whenever you feel like it shows me you’re not good enough.”</p><p>How much did Marina tell her…?</p><p>“And why do you think I came back?” I ask. I’m curious along with feeling angry.</p><p>“I think you’re using her. She’s cute and naive, and now that she’s got enough money to do whatever she wants, I think you’re going to use her until she’s dried up and then abandon her again.” The picture that she paints of me is horrific and I honestly wonder why she’s not also a writer with the way that she uses her words like knives. “She’s never even <em> had </em> a girlfriend, and suddenly she’s all over you like you’re a damn god or something.”</p><p>I smirk. Apparently that really bugs her. “So what, she can’t have a girlfriend?”</p><p>“That’s not what I mean and you know it!” she snaps back. She has a more vicious bite than Mariah does, for sure. I wonder if that’s why Marina can stand her where I can’t. </p><p>I sit up in bed. This isn’t a conversation I want to have laying down, metaphorically or literally. </p><p>“I love Marina.”</p><p>“Like hell you do.”</p><p>The bitterness of her words is one that I anticipate but it still pisses me off. </p><p>“I don’t need to convince anyone <em>except </em> Marina,” I remind her, starting to throw some heat behind my own words, “I don’t get what good she sees in me either, but she does. And until she doesn’t want to be with me anymore, I’m staying by her. I’m not going <em>anywhere</em>. I’m not proud of what I did, and I’m working every <em>day </em>to be the woman Marina deserves. So back off.”</p><p>Delilah’s glare continues to be paired with gritted teeth. I send back my own glare. She doesn’t say another word but walks out of the room and slams the door behind her, leaving me in silence again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. I Hope It's Enough</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Amber needs help too sometimes. Marina makes sure she gets it.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As much as they shouldn’t, Delilah’s words stick with me again. I get through dinner and another board game before Marina starts to look tired and I use that as an excuse to leave. Once we’re back in the confines of the motorhome I feel like I can breathe a little easier. Marina might as well be a zombie, though. She plows into my back in the middle of the coach and I stand still to let her stay there. </p><p>“Tired?”</p><p>I can feel the friction against my back as she nods. “I’ve forgotten how exhausting it is being around so many people,” she whines.</p><p>“Why do you think I went upstairs for a bit earlier? You’ve been doing <em> way </em> better than me.”</p><p>She whines again but doesn’t say anything. She wraps her hands around my stomach and pulls me into a tight hug. I put my hands on her arms and rub my thumbs against her skin. “We can relax tonight,” I tell her. “But we’re probably going to need to talk about what the plan is.”</p><p>That makes her pick her head up. “The plan?”</p><p>“Yeah,” I say, “We never talked about how long you wanted to stay. I figured you wouldn’t wanna talk about it in front of your parents, but we should probably figure out what we want to do.”</p><p>“Oh.” </p><p>Did she forget that we weren’t going to stay here long?</p><p>I turn around in her arms and she lets me but keeps her head down. I tilt her head up with my fingers. “What’s up, babe?” I ask her. She looks at me and I can see how much she’s struggling with her words. I give her some time to balance them in her head before she finally opens her mouth. </p><p>“I don’t know what I want…” she says. I feel a slight twist in my gut. This was what I was afraid of happening. “It’s nice to be home, because I missed everyone a lot, but…”</p><p>She pauses. After a few seconds I prod, “But…?”</p><p>She sighs quickly. “I feel like I can’t do <em>anything </em>without everyone’s eyes being glued to me. I’m so used to just being <em> us </em> but now I feel like I’m on display and that anything I do is going to get tattled to <em> mom </em>.”</p><p>It wasn’t the complaint I was expecting so I laugh. I feel a small hit on my shoulder. “It’s not funny!”</p><p>I continue laughing even when I see her face start to puff out at her cheeks. I lift my finger and poke the middle of her left one. I expect it to deflate but it doesn’t. “I’m sorry,” I tell her, a playful lilt to my tone. “Well, you’re safe in here with me for tonight at least. Didn’t think that the kids were going to let you go.”</p><p>Marina’s eyes soften. “Right?” she asks, although she sounds sad, “I hate upsetting them…”</p><p>I switch my hand’s position and start brushing her cheek with my thumb. “They’ll be okay. They can’t fall asleep on your lap every night… Did Mason even get back to his room last night?”</p><p>“Henry came to get him.”</p><p>“Ah.” Makes sense. Marina has about as much grace as her ten-year-old siblings, so expecting her to carry any of them would end in disaster. “They’ll be okay. I’m sure they’re just happy to have you home.”</p><p>Marina’s face continues to stay sad. I’m not sure why. “What’s wrong…?” I ask her, keeping my voice quiet even though I know that no one will be able to hear us outside the motorhome. </p><p>“… I feel bad.”</p><p>“About?”</p><p>Marina starts to look away from me. I don’t withdraw my hand but I let her look at my shoulder instead. I can feel her fingers playing with the back of my shirt. “About… Leaving. About <em>wanting </em>to leave again. About… Starting my own life. Leaving them behind. They’re so little and I don’t… Want to just disappear.”</p><p>It makes sense. I wouldn’t have come up with that on my own, but the way she says it makes me understand. All nine of them have been in the house unless they absolutely had to go somewhere else. Even Joshua and Henry made their way back, regardless of the fact that they had graduated college and started careers. Marina leaving and not going to college probably feels like a bit of a cop-out. </p><p>I lean forward and press my lips to her forehead. She smells like the shampoo she has in the bathroom upstairs. “You know that we can visit whenever you want,” I remind her, “We can travel and then come back whenever you feel like you miss them… Or holidays or something.” I’m making a lot of open promises that I’m not sure I can keep, but I want to. I want her to know that coming back here is always an option. As much as I may not understand the familial obligation, they’re clearly important to her.</p><p>If they’re important to her, then they need to be important to me, too.</p><p>She looks at me again with a small glimmer of hope in her eyes. “Even Christmas?”</p><p>I smile at her. “You’ll probably miss the snow out East if you wanna do that, but we can.”</p><p>She looks at me and smiles. She then leans up and kisses me and I am all too eager to let her do it. She feels soft and warm, and her appreciative kisses are always the <em> best </em>kind of kisses. </p><p>“I can live with that.” She sounds just as appreciative as her kisses are. I keep my eyes closed and continue to move against her mouth. My left hand swoops around her back and I pull her closer to me. “Thank you,” she whispers between our lips.</p><p>“Anything for you…” </p><p>I mean that, too. It may not be evident in everything I do, but a lot of what I do for Marina has made me a better person than I used to be, and even better than who I was becoming before we met. </p><p>But…</p><p>“Can I ask you something…?”</p><p>She looks at me and then nods. </p><p>“You believe me, right…?” She stares blankly at me. “When I say that…?”</p><p>Her eyebrows furrow to give her a quizzical look. “Of course I do,” she says, “Why do you have to ask?” </p><p>We’ve talked about this a few times. Every time I start to speak I find that I lose the words that I need in order to actually communicate with her. All I can do is look at her, into her blue eyes, and see how beautiful she is when she’s looking at me. The way she looks at me makes me feel exactly like Delilah accused, like a god in Marina’s eyes. It’s a heavy responsibility. A heavy burden. A great expectation.</p><p>“Just checking.” </p><p>Normally she lets me off the hook. Tonight I’m not so lucky. “Why do you have to check?”</p><p>My lips press together. I don’t want to say anything, but I think she might force me to. “Just some stuff that Delilah said.”</p><p>Marina sighs and releases her arms before she slides them up my back and presses her palms into my shoulder-blades. “Do you want to talk about it?” She doesn’t stop looking at me.</p><p>“Not really,” I mutter. “It’s stupid.”</p><p>“No…” she murmurs, “It’s not stupid if it bothers you.” She pauses, then softly asks, “Please…?”</p><p>She knows that hitting me with a delicate please is all it takes for me to fold. I still let out a sigh and then struggle with the words. “Same stuff as last night… That I’m not good enough for you… That I’m using you…” Marina doesn’t say anything but lets me keep talking. “I don’t… Want you to think that’s what I’m doing. Because I love you… I love you so much…” </p><p>Her right hand moves from my back to my face. We’re mirroring each other with how we’re placed right now. “I told you before… I don’t care if you use me… I love you…” she whispers. She leans up to kiss me and I pull away. </p><p>“I don’t <em> want </em> to use you…” I say, a little stronger. When I see her wince I quickly backtrack. “Not… Not the way she’s saying I am.” She waits, still a little unsure about what I’m saying, and I stroke her cheek again. “I don’t like how it sounds… I don’t think of you like an object to just use and throw away… I want you for the long haul… I… Want to <em>rely </em>on you, like couples are supposed to do sometimes… Not… <em> Use </em> you.”</p><p>If I think too hard about it, I start to count the times that I used Marina to fill the holes in my heart. It’s taken a long time to try to curb my way of thinking like that, and it’s even harder to communicate it without feeling like I’m mixing up the meanings of the words.</p><p>Marina continues to look at me and then nods her head. Her thumb stops brushing my cheek. “Okay.” </p><p>She sounds serious and it surprises me. “Okay?”</p><p>She nods again and then kisses me briefly on the mouth. “I’m going to fix it.”</p><p>“Wait, what?”</p><p>She pulls away from me and I don’t have enough of a grip on her to hold her back. “Marina, what do you mean you’re going— Marina!”</p><p>She doesn’t wait for me to ask questions before she walks out of the motorhome and starts to make a direct line for the door. I quickly follow after her, feeling clumsy as I nearly trip off the step outside the door. “Marina, wait!” </p><p>She doesn’t, though. She also doesn’t hold the door open for me when she walks into the house and starts heading up the stairs. I push it open and close it before I follow her up, trying to be quiet. She’s around the corner and in her old room before I reach the top of the landing. </p><p>“You’re not going to talk about her like that again.”</p><p>I hear the voice and barely recognize that it’s her. I come from behind her and see that Delilah is sitting at her desk at the far edge of the room, working on something. She’s looking at Marina through the space in the bunkbeds. She looks calm but a little bewildered at the statement and, maybe, how different Marina’s tone is. “What are you talking about, Marina?”</p><p>"You always treat me like I’m a little kid who can’t make any decisions for herself,” she continues, “You always have. You always question everything that I do and you don’t let me live my life. And I’m not going to let that happen anymore.”</p><p>Delilah’s eyes narrow and she looks at me over Marina’s shoulder. “Whatever she said to you, she’s <em> lying</em>, Mar—“</p><p>“Amber doesn’t <em> lie </em> to me!”</p><p>She’s dedicated to that statement and I swallow hard. Normally, no, I don’t. There was just the one time… That one time after I came back and before we left for Coachella. I never brought it up because there was no way I could tell her without seeing her puppy-dog eyes in my head. </p><p>Marina’s dedication also stuns Delilah into silence. She looks at me but then looks at Marina. </p><p>“Amber does <em>everything </em>for me… <em> Everything </em> .” Marina takes advantage of the silence. She has her hands in small fists down by her sides and she is completely focused on staring down Delilah. “She takes care of me, and spoils me, and takes me wherever I want to go and, whenever we go somewhere <em> she </em> wants to go, it’s because she thinks that I am going to love it too.” Marina’s impassioned as she speaks and there’s a small smile that works its way onto my face. “She took care of me when the car died, she made sure I didn’t go hungry, and she bought me all the snacks I wanted. She went on the treasure hunt that none of <em>you </em>wanted to go with me on, and she brought me to see the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen in my life. She’s never complained about <em> anything </em> that I did, and she loves me more than I have ever been loved in my life!”</p><p>A lot of these are thoughts I’ve never heard. Marina’s gratitude has never been absent, but hearing her put it this way… </p><p>“I love her, and she loves me, and if you have anything else to say about it, then you need to shut up!” </p><p>The tension in the room rises and plateaus. The sisters stare at each other. It’s silent. After a dozen or so seconds, Delilah nods her head. “Okay.”</p><p>The word breaks the tension and I release my breath. I didn’t realize I’d been holding it. </p><p>“You owe her an apology.”</p><p>Marina’s last demand makes both of us ask, “What?”</p><p>Marina doesn’t look back at me and keeps her eyes on her sister. “You owe her an apology, for saying the things you did last night and whatever you said to her today.”</p><p>Delilah makes a face and her eyes flash over to me again. She looks like she is weighing her options. </p><p>It takes another look at us, and a few more seconds, before she stands up. </p><p>She crosses to the other side of the bed and stands in front of Marina. She looks at me from over her shoulder, makes direct eye contact, and says, “I’m sorry.” </p><p>Clearly this is something they’ve practiced in their house because it actually sounds genuine. It’s probably the nicest tone I’ve heard her speak in since we got here. </p><p>I nod. It’s as much as I can do right now. I’m too awestruck at the situation to actually speak.</p><p>“And I’m sorry to you too, Marina,” she continues, quickly forgetting about me and focusing on her younger sister, “I want the world for you… And you’re right that you are old enough that you can decide how that should feel.”</p><p>Marina looks at her and nods her head. “Apology accepted,” she says. The two sisters gravitate towards each other and exchange a hug. Despite the fact that Marina had come up here ready to fight, her personality has returned rather quickly now that she’s gotten what she wanted.</p><p>Because of that, we leave the room quickly, too.</p><p>We’re silent as we make our way down the stairs, through the front door, and towards our own little slice of domesticity.</p><p>Once we’re in the motorhome again, she pauses in the center and turns to look at me. She has a sheepish grin on her face and a light flush to her cheeks. “I’m sorry you had to see that…” she sounds shy but not regretful, “I don’t really… Like doing that.”</p><p>I’m stunned.</p><p>Stunned she feels like she has to apologize. </p><p>Stunned that, after a display like <em>that</em>, she still finds a way to put herself down.</p><p>I take three quick steps forward and cup her cheeks in my hands before mashing our mouths together. I don’t let her pull back, even though she makes a surprised squeak against my lips, and instead I kiss her more, harder and faster each time, as if indicative of how much I love her.</p><p>Of how much I’m grateful for her.</p><p>Of how my love for her grows with every passing second, even when I think it’s not possible to love her more than I did before.</p><p>She melts into me and, after a few more passionate kisses, I break the stream. I look at her and I can feel my gaze move between both of her eyes. “I love you,” I say again, a little breathless, “And I am going to be everything you ever need, and want, and <em> deserve </em>.”</p><p>She softly smiles and cups my cheek in her hand before she kisses me again, softer. “You already <em> are </em>.”</p>
<hr/><p>I break my word and give her everything she wants that night.</p><p>I don’t even care if there’s a chance that people can hear us.</p><p>All that I care about is Marina.</p><p>How she feels.</p><p>How I make her feel.</p><p>How she makes <em>me </em>feel.</p><p>I would give her the world if it could compare to the feelings I have for her. </p><p>All that I have to give her, though, is the attention, care, and love that I can create.</p><p>I hope it’s enough.</p><p>I hope it tells her how much I love her.</p><p>How insanely deep that love is.</p><p>How I look forward to seeing how much this love can grow.</p>
<hr/><p>With the one confrontation out of the way, the relationship between myself and Delilah gradually becomes better. She is no longer an ice queen whenever I am in the room and even occasionally engages me in conversation. With her warming up, so does Stu, who surprises me with a love of vinyl records that are almost the same age as the cassette tapes I have. We spend an afternoon exchanging music and talking about the bands we love, the ones we don’t, and why I haven’t upgraded the motorhome to include something better than a cassette player and if that’s a mistake or not.</p><p>Three more days pass until we finally decide to leave. It’s a sunny, early morning when we all stand in the driveway next to the motorhome. It’s funny to see the entire family squished into the lot, especially since there’s less space due to my parking job. </p><p>“—And there’s some cheese, and some fruit, in case you guys get hungry…”</p><p>“Mom, we’ve got it.”</p><p>Penny has been fussing over us since last night, trying to make sure that all of our laundry is clean, that we have enough supplies, and that everything is taken care of before we head off.</p><p>“And you’ve got everything from inside? Your books, your photos, your phone charger?”</p><p>“Ah, shit—“ I say. Their phone. “Hold on, I gotta grab the phone from inside—“</p><p>“Keep it.”</p><p>Joshua smiles and stops me in my tracks. “It’s an old one. I keep ‘em in case someone breaks them… Or loses one…” His eyes dart to Marina tellingly, and I smirk. “Keep it in case you need it. You’ll need a new phone card, but you should be able to get that anywhere.”</p><p>I swallow back my bitterness about having a cell phone, the memories of Gramps saying how they’d give me Cancer coming back full-force. “Thanks,” I manage to stutter out. </p><p>Marina starts her round of hugs. It takes a lot longer than I’ve experienced her do with Mariah and her gang, but it follows the same pattern. Hug everyone, get into another small conversation, then repeat. Once she’s on her second round of hugs and has to stop to comfort the triplets who have started to cry, I feel a tap on my shoulder.</p><p>I turn and look at Penny who is smiling kindly at me. “I’m so glad you were able to stay with us.”</p><p>“N-Not at all… Thanks for having me.”</p><p>She opens up her hands and arms with one eyebrow raised. “Can I give you a hug?”</p><p>I swallow nervously. “Y-Yeah…” I continue to stammer. I walk forward and carefully hug her. It’s different than hugging Marina. Marina’s hugs are warm and soft. Hugging Penny is like hugging a warm blanket fresh out of the dryer. Comforting. She keeps me in her embrace a little longer than I expect, but I don’t tug away.</p><p>“Take care of her…” she whispers to me, “And know you are <em>always </em>welcome here… <em> Both </em> of you…”</p><p>“Thank you,” I smile and slightly tighten my grasp, “And I will.”</p><p>I promised I would take care of her always anyway.</p><p>I’ve promised it to her, to myself…</p><p>… And, most importantly, to Marina.</p><p>“Bye Amber!” </p><p>Now that Penny had hugged me, the kids all do, and then another round of hugs start. </p>
<hr/><p>About half an hour later, we are finally pulling out of their driveway. I carefully start driving through the neighborhood, careful to watch my speed and look at every mirror. Marina is quiet in the passenger seat and I look over to see her eyes starting to get red and her cheeks wet. “Hey… Are you okay?”</p><p>“What?” she asks. I shoot her another look before I have to pay attention to the road. She lifts her hand and rubs at her eyes. “Sorry, yes, I’m okay. Just…” She pauses and then sighs. “I miss them already.”</p><p>I softly smile and then reach over and take her hand in mine. I squeeze it tight. “We’ll come back.”</p><p>She looks at our hands and then at me. “Promise?”</p><p>“I promise.”</p><p>And next time… Just maybe… I’ll actually be excited to go back.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>“If we could see the miracle of a single flower clearly our whole life would change.” – Buddha</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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